


A Kiss For Your Thoughts

by Kai_Smol_Trashlord



Series: My Dear Amatus, Ma'Vhenan [3]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, First Kiss, Flirting, Flowers, Fluff, Kissing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-05
Updated: 2018-11-05
Packaged: 2019-08-18 20:26:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16524062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kai_Smol_Trashlord/pseuds/Kai_Smol_Trashlord
Summary: An unwelcome visitor from Ilren and Roxanne's past somehow leads to Ilren and Dorian's relationship evolving sooner than they may have predicted or expected.ORThe one where the grumpy family member comes to visit and Ilren and Dorian finally kiss.





	A Kiss For Your Thoughts

**Author's Note:**

> Third time's a charm and I'm still not great at ending fics oops.

Grinning, Ilren pokes his head round the corner of a bookshelf, keeping himself hidden from Dorian. Ever since their return from meeting Dorian’s father at Redcliffe over three weeks ago, their flirting has increased and become the norm for the two of them. They do have conversations without flirting, of course, but more often than not one of them will sneakily slip in a compliment or a comment meant to tantalise the other person. 

Satisfied that the Mage isn’t paying attention, Ilren creeps up behind him silently before reaching around to place his hands over Dorian’s eyes from behind. His chest brushes against Dorian’s back and the chuckle that rumbles in the dark haired man’s chest gives away the fact he’s smiling. 

“My my, who could that possibly be sneaking up on me from behind?” he purrs, folding his arms over his chest. 

Ilren leans in to whisper into his ear. “There’s only one elf around here who would sneak up on you like this, Dorian.” 

“Ah, of course, I should have known that Solas had such a naughty streak in him.” 

Ilren smacks his shoulder as he drops his hands, Dorian laughing as he turns around to face the redhead. 

“I would hope Solas isn’t getting his hands all over you,” the elf jokes. “I might have some competition.” 

Dorian hums and places his hands casually on Ilren’s hips. “Now, Ilren. You know that you’re far more handsome than Solas and much more interesting.” 

Dorian’s comment has the elf blushing and he rubs his earlobe between forefinger and thumb awkwardly. Whilst he’s used to the Mage flirting with him and complimenting him lightly, he certainly isn’t used to being told such things as being interesting or more handsome than someone else. He knows it’s probably a part of Dorian’s game of flirting, but part of him wishes that maybe it could be more. Wishes that maybe it could  _ mean  _ more. He would be lying if he were to say he never considered in the solitude of his quarters what it would be like to have something more with Dorian than just flirting and fleeting touches aimed to tease. He knows though that it won’t happen. Dorian deserves more than an elf who would be forced into slavery back in his homeland of Tevinter. 

At least there’s no harm in meaningless flirting. 

“You’re the handsome one,” Ilren replies after a moment. “You’re certainly one of the more attractive  _ shem  _ that I’ve come across over the past year.” 

The Mage quirks a brow. “Only one of them? But who could be more handsome than I?” 

Ilren hums, pretending to consider Dorian’s words for a moment as he leans in slightly. He relishes the way Dorian’s grip on his hips tightens as they get ever so slightly closer. 

“I suppose you could be the top of the list.” 

“Could be?” 

The elf chuckles and moves to whisper into the man’s ear again. 

“Hmm… definitely…”

Rushing footsteps up the stairs force the two of them to jump apart, the pair of them blushing darkly as Roxanne appears at the top of the staircase. She approaches them both and smirks in amusement at the flush upon their faces. Ilren finds himself praying internally that she doesn’t start teasing or embarrassing them. Thankfully, she seems to sense Ilren’s strong desire for her not to make a fool out of him. 

“Ilren, we have a visitor. We need to go and greet them, apparently. Josephine said they asked for us specifically,” the brunette informs him. 

The redhead furrows his brows, rubbing at the back of his neck. “Surely we have visitors asking for us all the time. Why is this one so important?” he sighs. 

“Well… this particular visitor asked for Hunter Lavellan and Templar Trevelyan. It’s clearly someone who knows us personally enough to call us by those names when every other visitor we’ve had hasn’t even known that much about us.” 

Ilren grunts. Despite his displeasure at having to greet whatever visitor they had to endure the presence of now, he’s still somewhat curious about who it is for them to call himself and Roxanne by the titles they held before the explosion at the conclave. He knows it can’t be anyone in Roxanne’s family; they’re too busy making preparations for her elder brother’s upcoming wedding. If it were someone inviting them to the wedding ceremony, a letter would be sent to them rather than a visitor. It’s unlikely to be his parents or the Keeper of his clan either considering the way that they just gave him to the Trevelyans the way they did. 

“Go on,” Dorian insists encouragingly, “I won’t be going anywhere any time soon. I’ll still be here when you return.” The dark haired man throws him a wink and a smile before sauntering over to his desk by a window. Ilren watches him go, his gaze lingering. 

Roxanne sighs before tugging on Ilren’s arm. “Come on, Ren, we should get going. Wouldn’t want to be late for our dear visitor.” 

 

 

 

The courtyard is a little chillier than usual as Ilren waits alongside Roxanne for their visitor. Personally, he feels that whoever it is has a lot of nerve to request an audience with them and then keep them waiting out in the cold. It’s bad enough that he has to stand out here in the blasted cold in the first place, but the fact that he’s been torn from spending time with Dorian for this makes it worse in Ilren’s opinion. Huffing, the archer folds his arms and shoves his long fingered hands in his armpits in an attempt to keep them warm. 

“You look like an idiot. Stop it,” Roxanne tuts as she shoves Ilren’s arms back down by his sides. 

The elf glares at her. “Maybe you should have let me put on a coat of some sort before dragging me out here to meet whoever it is.” 

Roxanne rolls her eyes in annoyance. “Maybe if you wore more than what looks like pyjamas around Skyhold you wouldn’t be so cold.” 

“I’ll have you know that these ‘pyjamas’ are form fitting and comfortable. Certainly more comfortable than… whatever leathers you’re wearing.” 

A throat clears behind the bickering pair and the two of them are suddenly overcome with an impending sense of dread, like children caught stealing from the kitchens. 

“I see that your time with the Inquisition hasn’t matured either one of you in the slightest. Still squabbling like  _ shemlen  _ children over something so trivial as clothes.” 

Ilren and Roxanne both whirl around at the sound of the familiar voice and the elf feels the blood drain from his face. The light brown skin and black vallaslin above and below her left eye partnered with long white hair and vibrant golden-yellow eyes are not what Ilren was expecting to see and especially not now. The female elf’s expression is stern and obviously unimpressed by the antics of the two Inquisitors. 

“E-Elonowen! I thought you were still apprenticing under the Keeper?” Ilren splutters, his voice a little higher pitched than he’d like. He yelps when Elonowen marches over and smacks him around the back of the head. 

“Fool boy! I finished apprenticing before you left for the conclave! Or are you so ignorant of your clan and our people that you didn’t care to remember?” she hisses. 

The redhead scowls as he rubs where her hand hit him. He’d forgotten how much that hurt when he was given to the Trevelyans. 

Given away like a slave. 

The memory makes Ilren’s scowl darken. “Perhaps I wouldn’t have been so ignorant of  _ your  _ clan if someone had put up more of a fight to keep me there.” 

Elonowen raises a brow at him, tilting her head back slightly. “Oh? And what would you have suggested we do in order to fight to keep you? Kill the  _ shemlen  _ where they stood? Beg and plead for you not to go? Ilren, you were a problem child and you were happier with them than you ever were with us.” 

“Don’t you dare talk like I wanted it to happen.” 

“But you did. You said it yourself on many occasion that leaving with them would have served you better than ‘slumming it out’ in the wilderness with the ‘ _ shem  _ haters’.” 

Roxanne steps between the two elves, placing a hand on each of their chests to push them apart. Her hand is warm against Ilren’s chest. It grounds him and for a moment he’s not as angry. However, the smug look on Elonowen’s face just aggravates him once more and he slaps away her hand before turning on his heel and storming off. 

“Whatever you have to say, you can say it to Roxanne. I’m not putting up with this today,” Ilren huffs as he walks away, fists clenched as he stomps back up into the main building of Skyhold. 

The brunette runs a hand through her hair before turning back to Elonowen. “I’m sorry. I can go back and get him if-” 

“There will be no need.” Elonowen holds up a hand with an amused smile. “I will seek him out when he has calmed down. For now, I would like you to show me around Skyhold and introduce me to this Cullen your father has told me so much about.” 

Shuddering, Roxanne begins to lead the way and vows mentally to kill Ilren later for leaving her alone with this burdensome woman. 

 

 

 

When Dorian finds Ilren, he’s in a corner of the gardens angrily making chains of embrium flowers. His hands shake as he works furiously, muttering elven curses under his breath. Ilren doesn’t realise Dorian is even sitting in the grass beside him until a warm, light brown hand is placed gently on his knee. The elf doesn’t look up from his work, nor does he stop, but he does feel himself calm a little. 

The Mage begins to rub Ilren’s knee with his thumb in small circles and Ilren carefully places his embrium chain on the ground. He rubs his face with an exasperated sigh and closes his eyes. Of all the times the stupid clan Mage could show up, why did it have to be now? 

“Roxanne told me what happened in the courtyard,” Dorian tells the elf quietly. 

Ilren’s shoulders slump. “I see.” 

The silence between them only lasts for a couple of minutes before Dorian takes one of Ilren’s hands in his own. Cheeks flushed pale pink, the redhead glances down at their joined hands then up at the Mage’s face. The smile on the dark haired man’s face is small and melancholic as he gazes down at the flower chains. The elf isn’t sure what to make of it, so he says nothing at all. He just drinks in the silence and cherishes the moment while he can. 

“A less than stellar upbringing is something we both seem to have in common then. Though, I suppose you probably had it worse than I did.” Dorian plays with Ilren’s fingers absentmindedly as he speaks. 

“I’d argue that your father wanting to perform a blood magic ritual to change you because of who you are is far worse than what I went through growing up,” Ilren responds. 

Dorian laughs humorlessly. “I’d wager that your family sending you away to live with another family without your permission is equally as painful.” 

Ilren flinches and lowers his head, eyes averted to the blades of grass closest to his legs. He’s thankful that Roxanne at least hasn’t given him all the details on this particular part of his past. He knows that he should probably tell Dorian, especially after he was so honest with him. But would Dorian think differently of him if he did? 

“Elonowen is rather… stern, isn’t she?” the Mage inquires with hesitation. 

Ilren snorts and tilts his head to glance at the Mage. “I shouldn’t be surprised that you ran into her I suppose. Did she have anything nice to say to you, at least?” 

The elf’s eyes widen when Dorian clasps his chin to bring him a little closer and his heart thunders in his chest as the two of them sit amongst the grass and embrium chains. Stone grey eyes gaze into Ilren’s own red irises, looking into his soul for something. Ilren licks his lips anxiously, frozen on the spot. 

“That’s for me to know and you to find out, isn’t it?” the dark haired man whispers, their lips so close that Ilren can feel Dorian’s breath against his skin. 

The elf shakilly rests his hands on either side of Dorian as he shifts into a kneeling position. Their breaths mingle and Ilren’s forehead bumps gently against the Mage’s in the midst of his movement. He knows that he shouldn’t , but right now he really wants to kiss Dorian. He wants to kiss him and say screw it to the consequences. 

“Ilren…” 

Ilren jerks forward suddenly and seals their lips in a kiss. Dorian’s eyes are wide in shock as the redhead’s lips move against his and their fingers intertwine in the grass. Humming into the kiss, the archer tilts his head to get better access and he gasps when Dorian starts kissing back. A tongue teasingly swipes his bottom lip and he breaks away, heart pounding. His brows shoot up his forehead at the realisation of what he’s done and he swiftly rises to his feet. 

“I… Dorian…” Ilren claps a hand to his mouth, unable to fully believe that he’s just kissed the dark haired man. 

The Mage hauls himself up and brushes down the front of his clothes. “Well, that was unexpected.” 

The elf whines and covers his face with both hands in embarrassment. This is it. This is the moment that Dorian tells him that they can’t go any further than flirting and that today is a step too far. The flirting will eventually stop and then Dorian will find another, more deserving man than him. Ilren knew he shouldn’t have done that, but he just couldn’t resist. Creators, he’s such a fool. 

Panicking, Ilren tries to leave but Dorian pulls him back by the arm and forces him to turn and look him in the eye. His hands are in the human’s and those stony grey eyes are boring into him once again. The smile on his face is tender and Ilren just wants to run. He isn’t sure if he can take it if Dorian gives him such a sweet smile and then breaks things off between them. He doesn’t want to be hurt more than necessary and if that means leaving things between them and watching him be with someone else then he will have to accept it. 

“Ilren, you don’t need to run,” Dorian reassures him in that velvety voice of his. 

The elf closes his eyes. “I can’t… you… you don’t want this…” 

Dorian chuckles and his lips brush against Ilren’s for less than a second. “If I didn’t want this I wouldn’t have let you kiss me and I certainly wouldn’t have kissed you back.” 

“You deserve better than a sl-” 

“If you’re about to call yourself a slave I will be telling Elonowen to slap you round the back of the head again,” the Mage threatens. 

Ilren hesitantly opens his eyes and bites on his lip. Dorian’s voice was stern, but his expression is still warm and reassuring. His hands release Ilren’s to cup his face and run his thumbs back and forth across his cheekbones. 

“I couldn’t care less about your race. Elf, human, dwarf, even qunari. I couldn’t give a flying fuck because I like you for you and your race means nothing to me.” 

Tears spring to the archer’s eyes and he allows Dorian to capture his lips in another kiss. This one is slow and gentle and Ilren melts into it - melts into Dorian. He hesitantly wraps his arms around Dorian’s waist to bring him in closer until their chests are touching and his eyes flutter closed. Their lips move messily, still trying to get used to one another’s movements. One of Dorian’s hands combs through the red locks on top of Ilren’s shaved head and the elf is the first to pull away, both of them panting. 

“You know,” Ilren rasps between deep breaths, “people will talk. They might think that we’re intimate.” 

The Mage chuckles lasciviously and his thumb lightly caresses the elf’s bottom lip. “We will have to explore the truth of how intimate they’ll think we are then, won’t we?” he purrs and Ilren giggles before Dorian brings him in for another kiss in the solitude of the garden. 

**Author's Note:**

> I get the feeling we'll be seeing more of Elonowen in future fics...


End file.
